Road Rage

A very dear friend told me recently “you’re one of the strongest people I know”. I was shocked to think that anyone would describe me this way, because “strong” is just about the last word I would use to describe myself - the world seems to rush in at me disconcertingly; the pain and anger and sadness of others leaving me raw and drained, unable as I am to filter out the groundless worries from the valid.

Dropping off the Small Girl at Big School one morning earlier this week, I was accosted at my car by an alarming woman; broad-shouldered, wild-eyed, harshly tracksuited and loudly exclaiming “You nearly killed my children!”. For a sickening moment (before I realised that she was the horribly aggressive driver who had taken exception moments earlier to a right turn I had made), I really thought that I had actually nearly run someone’s children over, and I subsequently spent two entire nights without sleep, unable to get over the shock of thinking I could have inadvertently harmed a child.

I went for a long run that morning whilst the Very Small Boy was at playschool, completing my 10k circuit around the outskirts of Newbridge in exactly an hour, and returning home feeling utterly exhausted but mentally revived. And I realised that when it comes to running, despite being small and not physically very strong, I am tough – I have the ability to keep on going, keep pushing myself where others would have given up, exhausted.

The Small Girl went home from school that day to a friend’s house, and as always on the afternoons when she is off Being Sociable, the Very Small Boy and I felt lost. I missed her reassuring presence after an upsetting morning, and the Very Small Boy, horrified at having to dine alone, began to stamp his foot and demand:

“I want her to come home now! I want her now!”, before adding quietly “I miss her little face…”

When the Small Girl did finally return, full of chatter about zombie games and chocolate pancakes, she took one look at me and cried

“Ohmygod! Mummy! You have a spot!”
“I know darling” I sighed, “it’s been that kind of a day I'm afraid.”
“You know Mummy” she said sympathetically, “ I saw an advert on the telly for some cream you could buy for that…”

I laughed and gave my small girl a big hug, relieved beyond words to have her back safe with us at home. I find even the small-scale daily onslaught of worry and emotion (like absence or a troubling bout of road rage) so draining that it’s no wonder I struggle to process the bigger things. But if there’s one thing I can say about myself, it’s that I’m resilient, and I can console myself with the thought that, despite the fact that I appear both physically and emotionally fragile, I am actually pretty tough on both counts. So, my velour-clad friend, you may be able to reduce me to tears. But I can run rings around you.